Such a Time

Here we are. Enclosed by an invisible force wrecking havoc upon the mind and challenging the heart. An enemy floating within and without our walls. Replacing our vibrant lives with colorless fear all while stripping away our individual and collective dignity. We find ourselves fenced in, “for such a time as this.”

It’s an interesting call to action, “for such a time as this”*, but what is this phrase really calling us to do? Originally it was stated in a scolding manner to a young woman. She was being challenged by her uncle to take into consideration all that lay beyond herself. Her location and position in society were called into question by having her reflect on what it truly is that she is called to do. Esther’s uncle was reminding her that she was chosen to set aside her self interests and step up to face uncertainty and a looming enemy head on. She didn’t create her circumstances. She didn’t desire to be involved. She didn’t even think she could make a difference. But Esther realized she was part of a much larger story line and knew that as a follower of the one true God, she had been created and given the voice for such a time as this.

The oppressive beast of today may look different from what Esther faced, but it stems from the same brokenness of humanity. And so we are still left to ask ourselves, “What have we been called for?” It’s a good question, but it’s also a hard question. It’s easy to be a follower of something when all is well, but what about when life is full of uncertainties and revulsion? What about when monstrous systemic viruses rear their ugly head?

As a follower of the one true God, there is little option of what we must do. We may not be the final voice that slays the beast, but we are all called to speak out in truth as we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.** And we are called to this action, for such a time as this.

 

* Esther 4:14

**Micah 6:8

 

All Because

“Papa. It’s been 28 years since your bellybutton problem. That makes you 45.”

“What? Why are you up? It’s not even six.”

“Papa. I just wanted you to know.”

“What are you talking about? Ugh. Go back to bed. It’s too early.”

It was then that I noticed a different little boy, wide-eyed, lying next to me.

“You’re awake. Get up! Get up! Let’s get some juice.”

Inside my head, it went something like this, “AHHHHH!”

Setting aside resentment against my wife who seemingly slept blissfully beside me, I forced myself out of bed, as a little one helped by pushing my back and a bigger one pulled on my arm. Morning is never as enjoyable as I would wish. Stepping out of the bedroom I am met by another child, saying he couldn’t sleep anymore since it was light outside and obviously the day was well underway. To say there was light outside would be a gross exaggeration. I think there was one, earliest of early birds which was just beginning to tune its song for the day stretching in its nest as the light was nothing more than the faintest of faint hazy glowing embers of pre-brightness. This is not the morning I had envisioned during spring break. Or any other day for that matter. I consider it less than joy to be up at this time of what some call “day” but never-the-less, up I must be.

Having three different sons with incredibly different sleep needs I find it a challenge to constantly be patient, kind, and not jealous of my sleeping wife. In all honesty, it’s hard. Well, actually hard doesn’t even come close. It’s a challenge to say the least, a chore to borrow a term from an older generation, and a daily choice to make. But isn’t that what real love is made from?

Now I’m not trying to boast and I certainly don’t want to come across arrogant as to say I have it all figured out, but it seems to me that love is a challenge sometimes. It is a daily chore. And it must be a constant choice. Throw in attitude, action, and behavior into the mix and love is something that is clearly in a different realm from the emotion based phrase, “I love pizza.” I have nothing against pizza but when our own personal emotional enjoyment of something, or someone, is the driving force behind our actions and behavior, we’re not talking love anymore.

Could you even imagine if Jesus decided he didn’t feel like hanging on the cross? To hang on the cross knowing there will be suffering. That he must bear all things without boasting. Intentionally choosing to endure such agony without being provoked. He chose to get up out of his comfort zone, meet us with all our unique needs, and still love us by putting us first. Now that’s a choice. That’s love.

Kind of puts into perspective my whiny little feeling based mornings as they really are. Struggles of self-centeredness. Yep, it’s that frustratingly resentful feeling, the beginning of irritation, when my self-centered world collides with the needs of others. There’s no falling out of love. Just a choice between self or others. I think that’s what the real action, attitude, and behavior are all about. A battle to see who has importance.

So, although it may be a challenge and a chore at times, I will constantly choose to love my family, even when they think a cricket is the starting sounds of morning. Striving to have the right attitude so that my actions will be the real indicator of my love, thereby showing a pattern of behavior that rejoices to everyone of the One who is True Love.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. — 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

 

Three

 

Three chapels spoke I this week

It allowed me in depth the Word to seek

Stepping away with passion anew

Amazingly insightful Ephesians 2

Answering the age old big three

(Who am I? How did I get here? Where am I going?)

A gift of grace absolutely free

It spoke of Identity, Good vs Evil, Metaphysics, and Purpose

Simplistic yet tiered complexity in surplus

Eyes wide open and pushed to the brink

Another wake up call to keep in sync

***

Three lads parented I this week

It allowed me in depth the Word to speak

Stepping away with passion anew

To continuously love the little crew

Evil tendencies poured out from the three

And I remembered love unconditionally

To give free will yet show they have a valued purpose

Simplistic yet tiered complexity in surplus

Created to create a workmanship on the brink

A bond of love waiting for us to link

***

Three messages heard I this week

Saved only by faith they speak

Nothing in our power can make us new

Only the grace of God brings spiritual renew’al

Genuine faith exudes evidence of life abundantly

Together in Christ with impunity

Three parts one message taught I

Three lads watching my own demise

There but for the grace of God go I

There but for the grace of God go I

 

The Bridge: Reflections

“To give a person an opinion one must first judge well whether that person is of the disposition to receive it or not.”

–The Book of Samurai

 

I couldn’t really say that I maintain a strong grasp on the pulse of my homeland right now. Like every country the beat of a nation rises and falls. Nor could I say that the politics of the moment and feelings of the day are within my grasp of knowledge either. Common sense has taught us all that news from social media is nowhere close to inherent. That being said, it appears there are some strong emotions mixed with unhealthy doses of fear permeating the atmosphere. While I generally steer clear from jumping into the arena with the big dogs to weigh in about my own opinions and thoughts on current events, this time I feel the need to share a few things I’ve recently reread.

1 John 4:18 “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

1 John 4:20 says, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

1 John 2:9 says “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness.”

“Our culture has accepted two huge lies: The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear them or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise convictions to be compassionate.” –Rick Warrren

I realize that not everyone may agree with my opinion on different matters, however, the majority I think will find that we’re entering a season where mutual respect regardless of differences has traditionally been upheld. We can get into semantics later, but I think we can also agree that fear and respect are not the same. Christmas was the beginning of the bridge. It was built so that we might experience life without fear. A life that takes us out of darkness and revolves around a lasting love. A way of redemption shown to us not because we are deserving or without blame, but rather shown to us by the only God who has come to us and desires to restore a relationship that has been broken. Restoring honor where there was once shame. That to me is certainly a bridge worth pursuing and sharing.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

The Bridge

From straw to wood . . . cloth to nails . . . frail to power . . . infancy to eternity

The bridge to the cross.

From a silent night to the only one raised to save.

“Joy! Unspeakable joy! . . . Rises in my soul, never lets me go.”

–Chris Tomlin

The Bridge: A Prelude

 

Origins of traditions can be hard to pinpoint sometimes. Other times the initial event that began it all can only be disputed by the blind. For some there seems no rhyme or reason as to why things occur as they do, you just know you should continue along. Christmas traditions have a clear beginning with our family. Mainly because the boys were so young to remember or be active in anything prior to Africa, our traditions began when we arrived in Kenya. Prior to knowing how a calendar worked our boys knew Christmas was coming by visiting the annual Christmas Fair in Nairobi. An amazing event with great food, fun and support of local and regional organizations intent on making the world a better place.

After the fair we would look for Creepy Saxophone Santa in front of Nakumatt and see how close we could get before being completely creeped out. The “Santa”, and I use this term loosely, would be still and then all of a sudden jump to life playing a weird version of some Christmas song. Then without notice he would cease moving until the next random spastic movement began. Like I said, creepy. Once this was accomplished my wife and I would pressure the boys to sit on Indian Santa’s lap for a photo. I could never really wrap my mind around why it was such an odd site to see a Santa from India in Kenya (yes I understand history). I guess my brain is still clinging to ingrained North American traditions. Regardless this was our prelude to the Christmas season.

This year it seems Creepy Saxophone Santa has been replaced with Blue Nakumatt Santa. Other than obvious marketing reasons, I’m not really sure why the Blue Santa is here. I tried to ask him but he wasn’t at liberty to say. What I do know is that the Kenyan guy in the blue felt suit was drenched with perspiration and still creeping out little kids. The tradition continues.

Certainly some traditions are just for fun while others, like Indian Santa begin purely by opportunity. However, other traditions, like setting up the Veggie Tales nativity, are rooted in an uncompromising and unchanging gift that bridged all time. A prelude to a second birth.

 

Don’t Wake The Monster

After being told repeatedly that his behavior was not something desired, the mother said in a stern voice, “Benjamin. What am I going to say to you?” The almost six year old sat pensively for a moment, cocked his head, and with all seriousness uttered “Bleh.”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud from where I was standing in the kitchen. Immediately two sets of eyes flashed their way to meet mine. One pair with a gleam of approval and a touch of playful mischief. The other pair had the look that you get from someone who says they love you yet nothing in their look is loving. Parenting is such a delicate balance. On one hand you get to enjoy the moments of randomness and discovery, encouraging them to go further than they ever thought possible. Enjoying the messiness of life and laughter of love. While on the other hand instructing that sometimes what is thought as creativity is not really creativity at all.

We have one son who thinks that streaking through the house is hysterical. He’s dramatic about it too. No mere naked running for the little dude. Oh no, he needs to make enough noise to draw attention to his marathon. Occasionally he wears a hat but usually that’s just an after thought. So where is the line drawn? When is it ok to laugh and let it go and when do you turn it into a teachable moment giving instruction on acceptable behavior? Maybe I should just let it all go and wait for Grandma to deal with it the next time she visits.

Sometimes a parent or teacher can feel like a monster squashing creativity for conformity. Sacrificing aspects of independence and pride for integrity and humility. It seems that even the clothes the boys have tells us to let it go and just be friends. However, truth be told, my sons are not my friends. They are my sons. Knowing right from wrong and acceptable behaviors are not something for me to ignore teaching. Having high expectations and holding them and myself accountable is not something to be inconsistent about. The real loveless monster would be to ignore such instruction in their lives. What they learn now will be the foundation they stand on later in life.

I will continue to enjoy every moment of my current world. A world where plastic dinosaurs high-five each other and the bad guys say “excuse me” and “sorry” after doing a most heinous crime, such as laughing loudly in an evil villain way. “Mwa-ha ha.” But deep within me I know that the monster of self entitlement and complacency waits for all of us just around the corner.

 

 

 

Welcome To The New

“But it’s no use to go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” – Lewis Carroll

“Now here you are eyes open wide. It’s like you’re seeing things in a brand new light, for the first time. Let us be the first to welcome you… Life you thought was too good to be true…Welcome to the new.”*

“Now here you are, a new point of view. Now it all makes sense, why it’s the called the Good News. Let us be the first to welcome you…We’ve been waiting for you… Welcome to the new.”*

There are no words to adequately convey emotions and thoughts that dance through your consciousness when you are able to hold a cherished little one after a long wait. Knowledge of pain, time away, and sorrowful heartache melt into nothingness with one look from his eyes. An overwhelming sense of joy floods through the crevices of life softening even the mightiest and most callused. In short it is love.

A brother’s love, while containing all the thrills of being an iconic superhero, is deeper and more fulfilling when the relationship develops. Devotion to one another in brotherly love is not merely an aspiration but rather an action for us all. Yet this love is often pale when standing next to the love of a mother. Much has been written about motherly love being one of power, beauty, intimacy, heroism, and even majesty. The depth of a mother’s love is a testimony to be sure, but the love of a father stands alone. Part superhero, part nurturer, a strong tower. The love of the father is patient and never-ending. Like a true superhero, he has come to save in spite of our heartaches and wrongful choices that led to our near demise. Then there is unspeakable joy when we arrive into his presence and are held by our one true Papa. Welcome to the new.

Opening Quote taken from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

*Lyrics and title shamelessly stolen from Welcome To The New by MercyMe